Lightaholics Anonymous
by Dragonist
Summary: Being forced to infiltrate some suspected support group of Kira was bad enough - unexpectedly finding and thus being forced to join a touchy feely support group for Kira supporters? Yeah. This was so not Gevanni's day.


Misa sniffled, her great globs of mascara and eyeliner smearing down her porcelain cheeks. "It's just so _hard_!" She wailed, her perfectly manicured fingers clutching on to the wrinkled leather of her Prada purse.

"Now, come on Misa," the long suffering group leader said as sympathetically as he could manage. "I know it's not easy, but you have to talk about it to get through it."

"No matter what I do, it's never good enough for him!" The blonde model gazed around the circle, teary eyed. "He tells me to kill the criminals, I kill the criminals. Then he tells me I killed the wrong criminals, or they were the right criminals but I killed them at the wrong time, so he tells me to kill the FBI-police-y people, so I kill them too! And then I even go and get a manicure because he said blue nails were tacky even though they're _sooo_ hot right now, and he still isn't happy!"

As the high maintenance woman collapsed into a frenzy of sobs, the rest of the people in the room began to clap. The group leader took the moment to glance through his notes. "Very nice, very nice." He finally said as the applause started to drift off. "Now, Mikami? Is there anything you would like to say?"

The man in question huffed a bit as he crossed his arms. "You're perfectly aware of my position on the subject," he bitterly spat out as he glared at the still softly sobbing Misa.

"Ah, but we have a new member today!" The group leader perked up a bit, finally remembering what it was he had forgotten. "Now, everyone, I'd like you to meet our newest addition to the support group, Stephen Gevanni!" The rest of the support group, even Misa, sat up a little straighter in their chairs as they looked over at the now slightly embarrassed man. "Now Stephen, would you mind introducing yourself to the group?"

Biting back his first response which was, yes, very much so, the rather good-looking hotshot coughed. "Uh… Well, hello, everybody. Nice to meet you." There was a rather disjointed chorus of greetings in response. "My name is Stephen Gevanni… and I'm a-" The undercover investigation member had to choke out his next words, "Light-a-holic."

"Very good, Stephen." The group leader's smile looked a bit harassed. Gevanni, who was currently cursing his luck at picking the shortest straw, could understand the sentiment. Being forced to infiltrate some suspected support group of Kira was bad enough - unexpectedly finding and thus being forced to join a touchy-feely support group for Kira supporters? Yeah. That wasn't exactly his cup of tea.

"Now, since you're new and all, why don't you go first, so we can give Mikami," the support leader shot the squirming lawyer a pointed look, "some time to think."

Gevanni glanced around the circle helplessly. The eagerly waiting Light-a-holics stared back but offered no help. "Uh…" What did he know about being the wannabe boyfriend of an evil genius?

Quite a lot, actually, it turned out. If certain things were put under a different light... well, he had always known his boss was one crazy ass, pajama wearing motherfucker. The undercover agent just hoped Near would never, ever, _ever_ be let close enough to his report to figure out what the hell he was talking about.

"-and then that was only after I had already spent four whole fucking hours buying coffee from Starbucks and then McDonalds and then those fresh ground beans from that Food of the World, or Food of the World Trade, or whatever that little shop down at Crescent Street past that one university, you know where I mean?" Gevanni paused in his rant to glance at his eagerly nodding supporters.

"Okay, so, I bought the damn beans, went out and got some cheap little coffee grinder that was made in _China_," the group members booed as he hissed the cursed country's name, "ground up the beans, ground up my fucking thumb," and here he held up the bandage appendage for evidence, "spilled the coffee on my brand new Armani suit," Mikami and Misa winced sympathetically, "ground up some more beans, ground up my _other _thumb," the second digit was presented for their approval, "brought him his coffee, and do you know what he said to me?"

Gevanni glared down at the sea of pale, albino faced little prepubescent bastards. The sea of pale, albino faced little prepubescent bastards gazed anxiously back. "He told me, and I quote, 'what took you so long?'" Gevanni basked in the support group's dismayed gasp. "And then, do you know what he had the nerve to say?" By this time, even Mikami had broken down into sympathetic tears. "He told me that _he had already gotten my goddamn assistant to do it!_"

And as the congregation broke out in spontaneous applause, and in some cases, standing ovations, Gevanni basked in the feeling of finally knowing where he belonged: in a support group for aficionados of crazy attractive and just plain crazy megalomaniacs.

Which was why, he thought rather pensively as he was carried around the room for his second victory lap, it would be such a shame when Near had the place bombed...

"On second thought," he mumbled as the support leader brought out the chips and beer, "what Near doesn't know won't hurt him."


End file.
